


A God and His Worshipper

by loeb55



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternative Universe - Gods, Background Relationships, Fluff, Getting Together, Gratuitous Use of First Names, Hinata is the sun, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sun God, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loeb55/pseuds/loeb55
Summary: Kageyama Tobio has always wanted to be closer to the Sun, to soar the sky alongside the golden light and grasp it in his hands. He never thought he would be able to.The first time the Sun touched him, it burned.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	A God and His Worshipper

The first time the Sun touched him, it burned.

A trail of red across his cheek. It was gentle-a careful press of fingers on his skin and the glow in front of him took the pain away as well as his breath.

In a few days, the mark disappears, and Tobio can't help but miss its presence-the reminder that the Sun chose to see him, and no other.

Tobio wakes before dawn every day, dressing in simple robes distinguishable only by the gold and red embroidery running up the sleeves, telling others that he is a worshipper of the Sun. Each year, there have been less. Now, he eats in the hall with four or five others, they clean up together, and they head to the shrine before the Sun has the chance to creep into the sky. 

Food and flowers, both dried and alive, are placed on either side of the shrine as the worshippers kneel in front of it/ When the Sun first peeks over the horizon, they close their eyes and take their chests to their knees, arms outstretched in a bow. Their worship is largely silent, allowing the Sun to have respite and communicate with the nature it gives life to. But in their minds, they thank the Sun, for it gave life to them too, and they know it hears their prayers.

The Sun has almost fully risen, and the worshippers leave to fulfil their duties, all except Tobio. Since he was chosen, since the Sun came down and brushed his hand against his cheek, his duty has been this-to sit up, wait for the Sun to come down from the sky, and greet him. He waits until midday, the unspoken agreed time for these visits, hands resting limply on his thighs and back relaxed.

Finally, the Sun moves. The golden light stays in its position high in the sky, but a man descends, as bright as the Sun itself, skin radiant and eyes gleaming. One foot touches the floor, then the next, and he picks up the bowls of food next to the shrine before sitting in front of Tobio, copying his position.

Ever since these meetings have started, Tobio has been fascinated by the way he walks, as if he is moving through the air even when on the ground. It's like he is weightless, formless, but he supposes he is. When he talks, his hands move fluidly, faster and faster with each meeting as he gets more comfortable in the presence of Tobio. The actions are still weightless, but more solid, more certain.

At first, when the Sun sat in front of him with the food offerings, Tobio panicked, because the Sun was offering _him _the food.

"I-I can't!" And then he goes completely red, because he just refused the _Sun_, but the Sun simply laughs, high-pitched, glistening. Tobio flushes for another reason.

"Food is meant to be shared. Eat." So he does. Now, he doesn't even hesitate to eat from the bowls as they sit in front of each other. Conversation is becoming less stilted between the two as they become accustomed to each other's presence, and Tobio begins to see the other as more than just a deity to be wordlessly worshipped.

He doesn't know how many times they have met now, just that it's been many. The Sun lands as gently as ever, collecting food and sharing it between them. They exchange hello's like they always do, but the Sun glances down, then away, and speaks more timidly than Tobio has ever heard him.

"Call me Shouyo. You... mustn't tell anyone else my name, but you can call me Shouyo." Tobio knows how important names are to deities. They have the ones that everyone calls them by-like the Sun-but they also have personal ones, ones that ae meant to be revealed to no one but their most trusted. For true names hold so much power; even a deity can be controlled if only their name is known.

"I'm honoured, _Shouyo." _He likes how the name sounds in his voice, gleaming like the man before him. Red tinges the gold. _How lovely it is to see a god blush, _he thinks.

As the Sun-as Shouyo-becomes more comfortable, Tobio does too. Shouyo tells him about all the things he sees, whether good or bad, and Tobio recounts his days, even if he thinks they'll never be as interesting as what the other witness. Yesterday, one of the new worshippers fell over their broom while sweeping the floor, and Tobio does a dramatic performance of it, laughing as he lands on his back. The deity throws himself down beside him, fingers running through the grass (cherishing these moments of touch).

Winter is setting in, which means Shouyo can't stay for much longer, having to return to the sky before the light fades. Often, they'll sit in silence. Talking isn't always needed when they're together, they find, and the quiet can communicate enough.

Another night, they're lying on the ground again. Many of the birds are migrating now, the usual silence filled with the sound of nature. Tobio stares at them, pondering the passage of time that they mark. He leads a structured life: wake up, eat, clean, pray, speak to Shouyo, eat again, clean again, study, sleep, wake up. Structure and routine is natural. He is the same as the birds migratingm and he has no issues with that. There is always happiness to be found in routine, and there will always be something different happening each day, whether bird or human.

Tobio navigates life with a general acceptance of its events, whether this be change or monotony. They are all following the path of the Sun, the path which never ends. 

"What are you thinking about, Tobio?" Shouyo's head tilts, his cheek touching the grass as he stares at his taller companion.

"Change, and the lack of it. How so little is different to the last time I saw the birds leave, yet I feel so much more content. I was content then too, but this-this is more... Can I ask you something?" Tobio turns his head, so they're holding eye contact.

"Mhm, anything Tobio."

"Why me? Why choose me?"

"Who else would see me as Shouyo, and not the Sun?" His hand reaches forward, fingers brushing his cheek like the very first time. It burns and soothes all at once. Tobio is left alone on the grass, feeling the sting on his cheek, and wondering when he forgot he was speaking to a god. 

The day after next is the winter solstice, so their conversation is even shorter than usual. Even Tobio has to help with the celebrations, and the winter solstice is one of the biggest of the year, topped only by the summer solstice. Shouyo spends the limited time asking Tobio questions about his life, wanting to know everything he's missed. 

Tobio tells him about his family, his parents who live in the village at the bottom of the hill. Despite the proximity, they don't see each other often. The hill is too steep for his parents to come up regularly, and his duties keep him in the temple, but they always knew this is how it would be as soon as he became a Sun worshipper. 

"Why did you do it, then? You could've made a life in the village." Shouyo's voice is more playful than not, Tobio has discovered, but he knows how to be serious too. It's always warm, but his solemnity feels like the whisper of wind as the Sun sets.

"I wanted to touch the sky. I wanted to be as close to the Sun as possible. It-you-oversaw everything, all the corners of the world. And you shone so bright it _hurt_, but that... that never meant you weren't beautiful. I guess. I guess you scared me, in a way, when I was really young. But then my parents told me to bring up the clothes my mother had made for the worshippers, and I got to the stop when they were still praying. The quiet made me feel close to the sky, like the air was different here and the Sun wasn't so scary anymore. Just... _loving._

You're the most powerful thing I've ever known, and in that moment, you felt reachable, close. I couldn't get it out of my mind. I wanted to always be that close. Nothing else felt right."

"I'm happy you're not scared of me anymore." The red is back, cutting through the orange and yellow glow. It's so strong that Tobio lights up in the colours too.

A god and his worshipper connected.

Tobio has to leave, and for once he reaches his hand out. Burning doesn't scare him, he hasn't been afraid of the Sun for a long time. So his fingers caress Shouyo's cheek, and the pain is a comfort to him. He's always dreamed of touching the sky, but Shouyo is so much better.

The god smiles, shy, putting his hand over Tobio's before going back to the sky-their time is up tonight.

All the worshippers are running through the shrine, hectic. With less of them each year, the harder the preparations are as everyone takes on more duties. Decorations are collected and cleaned, having to be put up over night, ceremonial outfits are refitted, Tobio is told to go to the village and make sure the musicians are prepared. 

Tobio isn't the most social of the worshippers, but one of the musicians is one of his childhood friends (of sorts), so he is always sent to check on the preparations. As he gets closer to the village, the noise gradually gets louder. Despite being on the smaller side, the village was always lively. 

It wasn't that Tobio hated the noise, he just felt more himself among the silence, like it granted him an existence. Usually, sound was too overwhelming for him, drowning out his very being-another reason he was drawn to the worship of the Sun.

Tsukishima meets him at the centre of the village, the other musicians practicing not too far away. He may be one of the most irritating people he knows, but he's also always understood Tobio's issue with noise, and how being in the middle of the practice could be too much for him. Tobio thinks it's because the taller isn't too dissimilar to himself-where music overwhelms Tobio, silence overwhelms Tsukishima. Two sides of the same coin, in a way.

"How is the music coming along?"

"Great as always, Kageyama. Everyone's healthy and present, songs all remembered. We're about to do another run-through if you want to stay?" Sometimes, Tobio will say no. He trusts Tsukishima despite their issues in the past and the arguments they still have now, and he knows how serious the other is about music. Tsukishima has yet to disappoint in all his years of doing this for festival. But this time, he says yes. 

It took a long time, but Tobio knows his limits now. Knows what he can handle and when, and knows how to tell people about it. So Tsukishima leads him to the group, telling them Tobio will be watching this time.

There have been new developments among the musicians, Tobio notices. Like the way Kuroo-a still relatively new addition to the village-calls Tsukishima 'Kei' sometimes among the several 'Tsukki's. And how Tsukishima blushes every time he does. Or how Kenma (who came to the village with Kuroo) smiles a lot more than he did last year-still quiet, but comfortable. Even how Yamaguchi plays his instrument more carefreely, fingers strumming a tune heavier than what Tobio had become accustomed to, yet the smile on his face was so much happier.

He never really regrets leaving the village to become a worshipper; these moments just reinforce that. Tobio knows he misses his friends growing up, misses the process of change, misses things big and small. Still, he doesn't regret. Regret is sorrow; regret is disappointment. This isn't what he feels-far from it.

The musicians play, skilled and in sync as they always are, and Tobio feels content. He knows there are things that he has missed, but he also knows that changes are clearer to him than anyone else because there is nothing gradual in his knowledge of his friends. Tobio notices more than people give him credit for, especially for the people he cares about. This is enough for him-this is all he wants.

When they finish, he bows and thanks them for their work. The festival will be a success again this year. 

After some small talk with the various musicians, Tobio leaves. Soon he'll be coming back down to help with decorations, but he knows the other four won't be able to bring them all down by themselves. It's an easy journey for him, even uphill, and he makes quick work of it.

Like he always does as of late, he thinks of Shouyo. Shouyo is like no-one he has ever known, like nothing he has ever seen. And he knows that Shouyo is the Sun, but Tobio can't help but think he is so much brighter-the Sun can never compare to Shouyo.

Tobio has always liked structure and routine, and there was a time when Shouyo wasn't included in his routine. That is something he does regret. A day without Shouyo is an empty one.

Every day, the god tells him about what he sees, about what it's like to move across the sky and watch over the great expanse below, yet Tobio still can't imagine what it must be like. Lonely, maybe. Unless he spoke to someone before, which Tobio doesn't begrudge in the slightest. He's not embarrassed to admit that he wants to be the person Shouyo talks to for, well, the rest of his life, but his life is limited, and Shouyo has existed for a long, long time before him.

The realisation doesn't hit him. Instead, it's a gentle caress, like the feeling of water washing against ankles kicking in the shallows of the warm ocean; sunlight dappling on skin through a canopy of leaves; Shouyo's fingers across his cheeks. Even when he burns so bright Tobio can see gold with his eyes closed, the other is gentle. Everything about him is loving, tender.

The realisation doesn't hit him, because it's not even a realisation, but an easy acceptance of something he has known for a while yet hadn't acknowledged. He's in love with the Sun. In love with a god. In love with the Sun. In love with Shouyo.

He's in love with a god but that doesn't matter because the god is Shouyo. And Shouyo will never not be gentle, he will never not be light on his feet, he will never not be the most human of them all.

(Tobio doesn't know what constitutes a human really, it's something far too philosophical. But he thinks Shouyo is what a human is, and everyone else must be a poor approximation of him.)

He's back at the shrine before he knows it, and he's instantly distracted by the bustle of the worshippers. Updates on the music relayed, he helps, thoughts now on the festival tomorrow. Even that puts his thoughts on Shouyo really, as it is a festival in his honour, but it is to be expected when Tobio has dedicated his life to his worship.

Preparations pass in a blur, and before he knows it, he has slept and woke up before the Sun has risen. There is no time for their daily prayer, but they still bring the food to the shrine and bow for a moment, before making their way down the hill. Ribbons lace the streets between houses, intricately tied around posts and twisting in delicate spirals at the ends, silk and paper flowers of oranges, yellows, and reds build up in number until they overflow in the centre of the village around the gazebo and spreading out like light streaking across the sky in the moments before the Sun sets. Tobio has seen the festival every year of his life, and has helped set it up for several of them, yet he's always in awe when he sees it under the Sun's glow. 

The villagers stream out of their houses, arms piled high with food that they lay out on the long tables lining the streets. Although the worshippers may organise the festival each year, the villagers are the heart of the celebration, and are involved every step of the way. 

As soon as the villagers have all settled, the lead-worshipper steps to the front of the gazebo, standing on the top step so everyone can see him.

"Today is the winter solstice! As always, it is a bitter-sweet day, because it marks the shortest amount of time that we can spend with the Sun, but it also tells us that this time will only increase from here on. This is a day that signifies hope for the future, the hope for light!" Oikawa ends his speech by turning away from the villagers and tying his own miniature Sun from the gazebo roof. It's constructed from a mixture of fabrics, some patterned and some block colours, and beautifully sewn together like always. Tobio has always admired Oikawa's complex Sun creations, and he loves watching them pirouette elegantly.

Tobio steps up next, tying his Sun made of dried marigold, tulip, and sunflower petals next to Oikawa's. He knows people like to compare him to Oikawa, suggesting he will be the next lead-worshipper, especially since the Sun chose him to be his companion, but Tobio sees more differences than similarities.

Both are serious about their worship, but the elder is more a social being, interacting with the other worshippers and connecting the village to the Sun in a way Tobio never could. Tobio is dedicated to the Sun alone in a way Oikawa never could be. He has never had any desire to lead others, all he wants is to worship the Sun, and now, to love Shouyo. Oikawa will likely be lead-worshipper for a long, long time, so he thinks it's pointless that people compare them anyway. 

The other worshippers hang their own Sun's, some paper, some fabric, some leaves that had been brushed with gold pigment, and then it's the villagers' turn. One by one, they step up and tie them to the gazebo entrance, until there is a wall of Sun's all dancing against each other. Tsukishima's was made from a music sheet, and Tobio knows it wouldn't be that simple-the song was likely meaningful to him, and so it is a perfect offering to the god.

Worshippers kneel and the villagers bow at the waist, silently thanking the Sun. A minute of silence, Tobio feels at peace, then the music begins. He hopes Shouyo is enjoying it.

People eat, dance, and play until the Sun sets-and Tobio thinks this might be his favourite part about the winter solstice ceremonies, despite the noise.

This might be his favourite part because his parents dance together, always slow even when the music isn't; children run their hands through the hundred Sun's, entranced like he once was; people take the chance to ask the ones they love to dance (this year, Yachi asks Kiyoko, red and stuttering and near collapsing when the older takes her hand and leads it); everyone comes alive in a way they only do for the Sun.

This might be his favourite part because there may be less worshippers at the shrine each year, but this just shows that the Sun is never lacking in love. Tobio has always thought actions speak louder than words, and this tells Shouyo that his mere existence causes so much happiness.

Kiyoko and Yachi drag him out to dance, as they do every year. He still isn't fluid like they manage to be, but no one cares as long as he dances with joy. Kuroo even manages to get Tsukishima to dance, which is almost the most surprising event of the night-the second being when the elder kisses his cheek and Tsukishima simply stops working.

When the Sun sets, everyone helps in cleaning up. Most of the decorations are boxed up, to be used again next year, but the hand-crafted Sun's are returned to each villager to be kept. No one ever reuses a Sun, but they are never destroyed either. It's become a tradition to keep them in personal shrined, and to one day choose their favourite one that they have created, and give it to their loved one. It's an unspoken declaration of love, of wanting to be with that person for the rest of their life.

The worshippers walk back up to the hill together, quietly chattering, except Tobio, who is staring at the Sun he's cradling and wondering if it's good enough for Shouyo.

His days return to their routine after the winter solstice. Only one thing is different, really, and that is the rare touches from the Sun are no longer so rare. Every day, there is some sort of physical contact-a brush of ankles, an excited grab of Tobio's arm while he's telling a story, the caress of the cheek before Shouyo has to leave as though he's saying '_I'll miss you_.

Tobio is always a patchwork of red now. Skin a myriad of warm tones imprinted onto him by the god he loves.

_Shouyo has felt guilty about this since the beginning, when he first touched his worshipper and marred him. Yet, he remembers how Tobio didn't flinch, how he seemed to lean into the touch like it was less of a burn, and more of a comfort. The Sun can't stop himself, because it's such a beautiful sight-Tobio covered in his colours._

_Tobio's hair is the colour of night and Shouyo thinks that now, with the other painted in sunlight, he knows what it would look like if the sky went dark even if he was still awake. _

_He looks at Tobio, darkness and light all at the same time, thinking there is only one god amongst them, and it's not himself. For a long time, he has known he is in love with Tobio, now he knows he is in love with the ethereal._

"Doesn't it hurt?" The god is trailing his fingers up and down his worshipper's arms, drawing shapes and letters across the expanse and watching as the red follows, making his musings clear for all.

"No... I like it, don't stop." Sincerity trickles through, and the smaller smiles into his shoulder, glowing in the way Tobio understands to mean he's so happy he can't hold his light in anymore.

As the days get longer and hotter, Tobio starts bringing things for them to do, wanting to give Shouyo experiences of the things he has watched for so long. They read all of the books Tobio owns, then the shrine's, then Tobio borrows from the village, stirring everyone's curiosity. (Well, Tobio reads them to Shouyo, the god has never needed the written word before, but Shouyo stares at the pages as the other reads, eventually connecting some the words to the lines on the paper).

They play board games, press flowers, run through the woods on the other side of the hill and make nests out of dried grass. They make daisy chains, paint and plant new flowers. They do everything Tobio can think of, because it makes Shouyo shine.

Months pass and the two sit with the knowledge of their love comfortably. There is no rush to say the words that their hands have already spoken.

The summer solstice passes by, another festival to celebrate the Sun, then winter moves on too, and it's been over a year since they first met before they even realised.

Time keeps moving on. It doesn't escape Tobio like it has so many times before, nor does it lag behind him. It just _goes._ Time has become unimportant in the sense of hours and minutes, he measures life by when it is light and when it isn't (when he can be with Shouyo, and when he can't). 

The years keep going and even though time is unimportant to him, Tobio thinks he should tell Shouyo soon, because a lack of care for time doesn’t stop time’s effect on him. Shouyo may be the most human out of them all, but he is still a god, still ageless, still immortal. The worshipper thinks his mind may now be ageless, but his body is not, and he’s not old, per say, yet he is still older than before. He wants Shouyo to know. 

Winter solstice arrives again. The Kageyama parents dance slowly, Kiyoko and Yachi no longer blush as everyone watches them dance as though they are one person and not two, Tsukishima merely sighs with mock exasperation as Kuroo drags him into the crowd. A child tells her parents she’s going to become a worshipper as she looks through every single Sun in awe. 

Decorations are packed up, Sun’s returned, worshippers go back up the hill, and Tobio knows it is time. He is not nervous, nothing could make him nervous in front of Shouyo, nor is he excited. What he’s going to say isn’t something new or unknown, it’s the culmination of the days they have spent together, and the days they will. It’s not exciting, because nothing will really change, there is little for him to anticipate. Content is what he feels.

Shouyo descends from the sky, light on his feet and light in his cheeks, and Tobio bows. In palms upturned lays a Sun made of dried petals, still tinged with yellow. Carefully, it is lifted from his hands and the god disappears, but Tobio isn’t worried. Nothing Shouyo does worries him. It doesn’t take long for him to return, and Tobio hasn’t looked up but the atmosphere changes every time the other’s feet press into the soil, so he knows he’s back before something is placed in his hands. 

This is his cue to sit up, so he does. Rising from the ground, he looks at the Sun unlike any he has seen before. Mostly, it’s black, fading into a blue in the centre, and yellow flowers are stuck to each tip-a representation of the both of them. Tobio wonders how long ago the god made it, cherishing the feeling of wholeness that comes with knowing they had the same idea.

Shouyo sinks to his knees, cups his worshipper’s cheek in his hand, and stares. Sometimes, Tobio forgets how small he is, until moments like this when the other has to look up to see his face, until the Sun touches him and Tobio registers that his hand is probably half the size of his own, until they hug and he is hidden completely from view. Tobio forgets how small he is, because Shouyo-not the Sun, not the god-has the largesy presence in his life, takes up the most space in his mind.

His cheek burns, but it does not hurt, and Shouyo leans in, whispering ‘I love you’ into his lips.

The first time the Sun touched him, it burned. It’s burned every time since, and this. This burns most of all.

///

_"If you could, would you go to the sky with me?" _

_"Would I be able to come back down?" He's already promised to hold Kiyoko and Yachi;s marriage, whenever that will be. His parents are too important to leave just yet. There are more things he wants to show Shouyo about life on the ground._

_"Any time you wanted to."_

_"Then I'll go with you."_

_///_

_There is a legend of two travellers who have roamed the world. One is tall with hair the colour of the night, the other short and hair a bright, bright orange. They both shine._

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this, check me out on twitter @ioeb55 ! I take prompts sometimes and write short twtfics :D


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